


Oneironaut

by Quillfiend



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Magic, Mystery, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-13 06:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18026810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillfiend/pseuds/Quillfiend
Summary: Veigar travels to Shurima in search of a long lost tomb, but is instead confronted by an eccentric sorceress that promises to help him dig through the sands - but only if he allows her to dig through his memories first. A story about dreams, eldritch gods. moving cities, old crimes and unlikely bonds.





	1. The First Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent fanfiction about my favourite things: dreams, deserts, gore and yordle smut.

**ONEIRONAUT**

_noun_

_A person who explores dream worlds, usually associated with lucid dreaming._

 

During his master's mad crusade through Valoran, Veigar once came upon a library in a burning city, one that held secrets the dark king found threatening to his reign. Veigar desperately ran between the collapsing shelves then, trying to salvage what knowledge he could; fire was licking his fur at every step, threatening to swallow him whole. The rising heat stole his breath and courage; he did not remember how he survived that day.

And now that he felt the same heat on his trail, he doubted he was going to get away from it again.

There were no blazing flames this time, no smoke and cinders. The sun above his head burned into his dark fur as if it was offended by his color, the shade he had brought between the dunes. He was exhausted, thirsty, lost; he'd dropped his map miles ago as it did not lead him where he needed to go. The tomb of _Idun'ari_ was either buried deep beneath the sands, or never existed at all; he was a fool to have believed legends of hidden treasure and magic, but his hunger for knowledge beckoned him into the searing desert and it would not be denied.

His short legs gave out, and he collapsed into the silky sand. No matter how hard he tried to command his body to move, it just would not. This was the end - after millennia of watching empires rise and fall, he was to be buried with the Shuriman kings, forgotten as they were.

He didn't crave this fate, but somehow he found peace in it. That he would finally rest. That he would finally die. That he would become stardust and forget a lifetime of suffering.

He closed his eyes and spoke a name. Then he sank into the welcoming dark.

 

_< You will obey.>_

_Veigar huddled in the corner of his cell, cold and afraid. He shivered, the memories of his company dying flashing before his eyes. None of them were useful. Only he was, and so the king let him live. They went too far. Why did they go so far?_

_< You are small and pathetic.>_

_He didn't have the strength to look up at the shadow looming over him. He prayed it was all just a dream, a terrible nightmare; he prayed to soon awaken in his cozy home in Bandle City._

_< I have a thousand ways to break you.>_

_Veigar did not doubt those words. He detested pain. He felt a lot of it already, and he could not take any more. Hammers and needles, swords and scissors; he couldn't face them again. No more. No more._

_< I can keep this up for a very long time.>_

_This was where Mordekaiser was supposed to step on his right foot and crush it. But he didn't, not this time. Instead he felt an unfamiliar touch, a taste of serenity. The immortal king suddenly seemed to distant, and Veigar found himself numb and isolated, safe from the perils of his nightmare. Everything was so far away, so small, and nothing mattered anymore. Nothing at all._

 

The warlock woke to a gentle ringing sound. He slowly opened his eyes, his stare immediately drawn to the strange creature on his stomach. Akin to a luminous butterfly, he'd never seen anything like it outside of books. A fairy?

Looking around, he figured he was in some sort of a tent. The walls and roof were fabric, and he was laid atop a pile of soft cushions. Somebody treated the burn on his chest he'd been struggling with since he crossed the Shuriman border, and the long scar in his left side no longer hurt. He felt... Nice, for somebody who had just been brought back from the brink of death.

The entire place smelled of plums and incense. Veigar slowly sat up, careful not to push the fae off. Was he still in Shurima? Was the strange creature his savior?

„Greetings,“ he said, „who are you?“

The glimmering butterfly lifted off, circling above his head before flying out of the tent. Veigar took a deep breath of the scented air before pushing himself up and following the fairy outside, into the moonlit desert. It was night, and it was chilly; the sands shimmered under the starry sky, reflecting their silver light.

„He doesn't talk,“ an unfamiliar voice answered, „not to you, anyway.“

Veigar looked around and saw another yordle sitting by the entrance of the tent. It's been so long since he'd run into a kinsman - or a kinswoman, in this case - that he almost jumped in surprise at the fact.

„Am I dreaming?“

„No,“ the yordle girl said quickly, chewing on a little stick in her mouth, „no, no. _No. Fortunately_ not.“

Veigar frowned, sitting down in the sand next to her. Her eyes had a slight, green luminosity to them; nothing he'd ever observed in a yordle. He suspected that whatever she was chewing was to be blamed for that.

„Who are you?“ the warlock asked again, „where are we?“

„Lulu, of course!“ she turned to him so suddenly that it startled him, „pleased to meet you. We're in Shurima, I think. I _hope_ so. Falling into another dimension now would be highly inconvenient.“

He was confused. Her speech and behavior were jarringly inconsistent, eccentric. He disliked unpredictable people.

„You saved me,“ Veigar noted after a while, „I suppose I should be grateful for that.“

„There's no need to pretend,“ she spat out the petal she was chewing, „I saw your dreams, Veigar.“

„How do you know my name?“

She pushed herself up, her violet hair cascading all the way down to her feet. She walked back inside the tent, and he had no choice but to follow.

„Why, I've been there,“ Lulu said as she searched all the chests and little tables, „inside your head.“

„What?“

She picked up a bowl, then a bag of something that looked like flour. He had no idea what she was doing, and even less so when she walked back over to him and buried her face in his shoulder.

„There's colors everywhere,“ she whispered when he elected to not push her away, „black, black, black. Grey, like the cloudy sky. Green, muted and... Distant. Red. Furious.“

He squinted. When she stepped away from him, her eyes were glossy, welling up.

„I don't know if I can help you,“ she swallowed and sat down by a shimmering lamp, „I will try.“

„I don't need help,“ Veigar growled, watching the fairy fly by and land in Lulu's hair, „where is my staff? My clothes?“

„Come here.“ She patted a cushion next to her. „You need to eat.“

„I'm tired of this,“ he hissed, „just answer my question.“

„The tomb of Idun will not resurface for few more days,“ she mumbled, „first, the sandstorm. You must wait.“

He perked a brow. How did she know of the tomb? How did she know he was headed there? _Who was she?_

„What do you know about the tomb?“ he asked when he finally sat down next to her, intrigued, „what's inside it?“

„Not what you're looking for.“ She turned to him, searching him with her large, green eyes. „The cure doesn't exist.“

She shoved a bowl full of thick, white paste into his hands. Once again, he had no idea what she was talking about.

„Eat,“ she urged him, „you need to regain your strength if you're to catch the Idun'ari.“

He raised the bowl, sniffing its contents. It smelled terribly sweet, but he did like sweet things.

„What is this?“

„Shuriman _salep_.“ Lulu smiled and reached for something behind her. „It's not poisoned, don't worry.“

„Of course,“ Veigar frowned, „if you wanted to kill me, you could've just left me in the desert.“

He dared taste the liquid meal, and he wasn't disappointed. It was thick and tasty, with hints of vanilla and cinnamon.

„You should eat more,“ Lulu noted as he devoured the paste; he simply couldn't get enough. „You look famished.“

She crawled behind him; his shoulder tensed when a soft brush touched his back. She began combing his dark fur, and while it wasn't wholly unpleasant, he wished she'd at least warned him.

„Why do you care what happens to me?“ he stared into the empty dish, „I don't know you. You don't know me.“

Her hands ran up his shoulders. He shivered.

„I help others,“ she said quietly, „relieve their pain. Not all deserve it. You do, more than others.“

„You never asked if I wanted your help.“

„No, I didn't.“ Her tone was suddenly heavy, grave. „Perhaps you don't. I cannot hold you here. This is why I plead to you: let me try.“

He looked over his shoulder. „I might, if you answer my questions.“

She nodded and returned to the brushing of his fur. „Ask.“

„ _Who_ are you?“

„I am Lulu,“ she spoke her name again, „there's little more to it! I cannot return to my friends, and so I wander the world.“

„Are you some sort of a mage?“

„Yes, I suppose you could say so,“ she mused, „though not the same kind as you, I think. My magic mends, heals, aids the sick. It can destroy, but I dislike destruction.“

„And the fairy?“ Veigar waved his clawed hand, „I've never even seen one before. What is it doing here?“

„He's my oldest and only friend,“ Lulu canted her head, „he enhances my magic.“

„Fairies are volatile, dangerous. You should send it away.“

„Why do you care what happens to me?“ she asked with a mischievous smile, „I don't know you. You don't know me.“

He laughed. It was bitter, but it was still laughter, for the first time in a long while. „I've been outsmarted, it seems.“

„You fear it,“ the air turned colder again, „not being smart enough. It was what led you to him. You weren't good enough.“

„I don't like this,“ he growled, „you digging through my mind, gods know how.“

„I had to,“ she let out a quiet sigh, „when I brought you here, your body wasn't responding to the healing. You didn't want to stay. I had to look into your dreams and soothe you, bring you back.“

„So it was you, then,“ he realized, „that calming presence in my nightmares.“

„It was difficult getting to you there,“ she lamented, „I've never seen so much pain, so much suffering. I chewed through an entire packet of tarblooms after it. It was so heavy.“

„I can assure you that living through it was even worse.“ He paused. „How do you enter the dreams of others? I've read about it being possible, but I've never encountered anybody capable of it.“

„I—...“ She lost herself in her thoughts, her brush gliding over his body. Finally he relaxed and simply enjoyed the treatment, his ears flickering.

„Dark and bright and iridescent galaxies,“ the girl behind him breathed a hushed whisper, „clouded nights, the moon hidden, far... Obscured. My, you're beautiful.“

Veigar's chin dropped, his shoulders tensing once again. „You didn't answer my question.“

„Ah,“ she snapped back to reality, „it's easier to be there than here. Everything is so light, so magical, so strange and wonderful. It does not bend to the rules of this world. It is more home than this is.“

„Are you telling me you'd rather dream than be awake?“

„Strange, isn't it?“ she asked, setting the brush aside, „you cannot imagine that. No, you do not dream of flying, of miracles, of walking fey orchards. You only remember. And suffer.“

She wasn't wrong, and still he wanted to argue. Then she pressed her hands into his shoulders and back, and he changed his mind. She knew exactly where to push and squeeze and knead to relieve the tension, though that wasn't what made him enjoy it so profusely; it was the contact. Solitude was what drove him mad, and he'd never gotten used to it, not even after centuries of it. He felt so small because of it, stupid, _ashamed;_ to be at the mercy of his whims was something he despised.

„So what is your plan?“ he asked and pushed himself out of the sorceress' reach. She took his bowl and went to fill it again, much to his delight.

„We have three days before the desert is struck by the _yahri-idun,_ “ Lulu said as he handed him another full bowl, „the storm that swallows the sun.“

„I can wait that long,“ Veigar muttered whilst stuffing himself, „how do you know so much about the Idun'ari tomb?“

„I've been there.“ She sat down next to him, watching him with curiosity - and worry. „I know what lies within. You're not ready to face it.“

„I'm not scared of a bit of old Shuriman magic,“ he huffed with his mouth full, „you underestimate my power.“

„Not everything is about power, friend.“

„Incorrect.“ Once again, he set the empty bowl aside. „No offense, but I will not be lectured by some mad hermit that is too altruistic for her own good.“

She shook her head, not arguing his point, though her expression spoke a thousand words on just how foolish and misguided she found him. It made him angry, bitter, and he wanted to lash out and defend himself from her mockery, but then she began undressing right next to him and suddenly he was too flustered to force a single word out. The tent was warm enough for her to stay in just the white chemise she wore under her dress; with no explanation given as to what she was doing and why, she went around her little abode dimming the lamps and lights and changing the incense sticks for fresh ones, and Veigar couldn't let his eyes off her for a single moment.

„We're not so different,“ she mumbled, her violet hair draping down over her back as she turned to one of the little tables, „you too wish to help, but you can't. Not directly. Not obviously. Not in a way that would have you recognized. You want to hurt on your own.“

„Stop pretending like you know me.“

She grabbed a clay jug, pouring its contents into two painted cups. Veigar couldn't see the liquid properly in the dim light, and so he could only guess what it was.

„Does anybody? Do you?“ she shot a smile over her shoulder, „let's find out.“

She returned to him with the two mugs. He briefly glanced over them, then looked back at her.

„This is _asakuri,“_ Lulu presented the drink with a blissful smile, „one of my favourite things! An order of Zhyun monks use it to enter a very deep trance that can last up to months. It's main ingredient is the _asakura,_ which... You haven't stopped me yet.“

He squinted, tenting his fingers and resting his chin on them. „Why would I?“

„Most people don't care,“ she mused, still smiling, „don't listen. They don't have the time. They don't have the mind.“

„Most people are idiots.“

She laughed, and for some reason he was glad he made her.

„Asakuras are little bushes that only grow around swirl rocks,“ she continued her lecture, „in small amounts, their ground petals can reduce tension or induce sleep. They're quite dangerous to handle, though. If you stumble on one and fall asleep in the wilds, you won't wake even with a pack of wolves tearing you apart.“

„So you want to make me sleep,“ Veigar noted, lifting the cup, „and go inside my mind again.“

„Yes,“ she looked at her wrist, a pensive pout on her face. She wasn't wearing a watch or anything the likes of it, and Veigar perked his brow. „My brew will take about half an hour to work. Perfect. Drink, and we will see about setting your mind into a better state.“

„I'm feeling fine.“ Veigar sipped from the cup; it tasted like tea with lots of milk in it. Lulu watched as he slowly drank his dose, then slurped hers in one go. The tarbloom luminosity surrounding her eyes finally dissipated, and he could see her large green irises in the dim lamplight. They reminded him of something; of better times, or perhaps of Bandle City. It made him nostalgic, melancholic even.

„Your mind doesn't like poking,“ Lulu took his empty mug, set it aside together with hers and pulled herself up on her knees, „or help, or joy, or happy little butterflies. You dream of terrible things because you think that's all you have, that's all you are.“

„I told you to stop pretending like you know all about me.“

She sauntered over to him, straddling him and sitting on his lap. He froze, his blood and thoughts sent into a panicked rush. It got worse when she slid her fingers into the fur on his chest.

„There's meditations that make unhappy minds a little easier to work with,“ she lowered her voice to a hushed whisper, „make them less scared, less scarred. But we don't have the time for that, so we'll cheat a little, okay?“

„What?“ was the single word Veigar managed before she nuzzled into his neck. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to shove her off, to run, but also not; she was so gentle with him, so careful and soft, and still it hurt, that bitter feeling of her disturbing something he'd been meticulously building for years. That he was fine alone. That he didn't need anybody. That he didn't need company, or help, or anything else. That he was unlovable, and that it didn't bother him.

„You're like gooseberries,“ she said with a little giggle when he tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist, „thorny and prickly, but so sweet inside.“

„You'll be disappointed.“ His tone was dull as he tried to swallow the growing knot in his throat. „There's nothing under the peel.“

„Oh, you could write poetry!“ she cried, leaning back, „the bad kind. The sad kind. The kind that touches you, but you wish it didn't. No, I'm not mocking you - somebody has to, I suppose.“

He didn't want to talk about poetry. He didn't want to talk at all. His hand wandered up her back, under that waterfall of violet hair, and once he held the back of her neck he used his weight to get on top; she didn't protest being thrown into the colorful pillows, or suddenly having him above her.

„Like that,“ she said, with a mischievous smile on her face and her legs coiled around him, „sorrow and sorcery, you have the gall to—„

Perhaps he'd been a little too forceful with his silencing kiss, but gods, he just wanted her to finally _stop talking._ Talking meant thinking, and thinking meant _bad things._ He wanted to be done with this before his mind caught up with his actions and made him pull away, reconsider, hate, regret.

His claws scraped against her thinly furred skin, wandering upwards and slowly pulling her thin petticoat out of the way. Everything about her was so soft, so ethereal, so romantic; she was everything he wasn't.

_Don't think about it._

He buried his face in her neck and took in her scent. Cinnamon, plums, magic. It made his head spin; the asakuri was messing with him, blurring his senses. He snapped back into reality when Lulu forced her hands underneath him and began untying the loose robe she dressed him in as she was mending him. Suddenly there was no fabric between them, nothing to stop him from taking ahold of her short, thick legs and slowly forcing his way inside her. He let out a little, pathetic groan once he did, so unworthy of a master of dark sorcery; it was so overwhelming, almost painfully so. He was incapable of moving further, afraid that he'd lose control entirely. He _hated_ losing control.

Unfortunately for him, Lulu's patience wasn't limitless, and the asakuri clock was ticking. When he refused to continue, she did; rolling back on top of him, she pinned the warlock underneath her and buried her hand in the dark fur that covered his chest. Her fairy companion landed in her hair; Veigar frowned at the glimmering butterfly.

„Wait—„

Another pitiful moan crawled out of his throat when the petite sorceress swung her hips against him, pushing him deeper into the pillows and all the way inside her. He bent his quivering legs, his claws making it to her thighs but no further; he didn't have the strength or will to stop her. He swore—he swore that he would regain his respect, his dominance, but for now he couldn't do anything about being reduced to her helpless toy.

„Stop fighting it,“ Lulu chirped, arching her back as her hands slid closer to his fuzzy neck, „it's fun!“

He clenched a pillow beneath his head, trying not to focus on how wet the fur in his crotch was getting.

„Why is this necessary again?“ he hissed between his teeth, a defiant snarl on his face. She didn't dignify him with an answer and simply continued riding him until that defiance of his turned into a meek, pleading stare; it didn't take her long to make him shiver and whimper in a release of tension that had been pent up for far too long.

He didn't feel happier after he came inside her. But the guilt was dulled, and so was the intense hatred of everything, himself most of all.

„Sleep,“ Lulu whispered after she stopped clenching him with her legs, running her tongue down his stomach to get the sticky out of his fur. He shivered again, afraid to close his eyes. She could disappear, she could not be there when he'd wake up.

„Don't go anywhere,“ he commanded her, though his trembling voice hardly beckoned any respect. She laughed, and then made his stubborn self come again with her mouth; only after that would he yield to the tranquilizing effects of the asakuri.

 


	2. The Second Dreaming

_The smell of burning flesh. The smell of liberty._

_It was the hour of terror and guilt, but Veigar could not muster the will to stop and ponder his actions. After centuries, these were the first breaths he took under an open sky. The smoke bit his lungs, scraping his collared throat, but he didn't care. He knew he would never be truly free again, and so he intended to enjoy every second of his fleeting sovereignty._

_A massive molten globe sizzled above his head and bit deep into the northern wall of the keep. The King's warhost pressed on without mercy, turning the once-majestic city into burning rubble. Hardly anything was left of the defending army; the remaining enemy troops retreated into the castle with their worthless leaders and let the city fall. None were left._

_None?_

_Even with smoke and cinders all around him, he couldn't miss the scent of filthy humans and their fear, their tears and sweat. Could he pretend that he didn't notice? Certainly. But perhaps a monument of flesh melted by dark magic would warrant the hated master's favor; perhaps Veigar would be allowed to speak to somebody then. Perhaps he wouldn't have to return to his cell._

_Smaller and faster that the King's soldiers, he could go where they couldn't; through hidden trapdoors and ruined cellars, rusty grates and narrow corridors made for situations like these, for when evil came to undo life and sow misery. There was a time when Veigar did not want to be a bad person. He didn't remember. He didn't understand anymore._

_There were memories that faded over time. He knew that day would never become one of them. The eyes, stuck in perpetual terror. The faces, torn and melting away. He knew what would happen. The scent was so close. Fear. Fear. Fear. Not his. Theirs. Or was it?_

_He dashed around the corner of the dark hallway, anticipating his prey. But those fleeing refugees, those wretched humans were not there. Only an unfamiliar face. An unfamiliar girl. An unfamiliar feeling._

_< The knot of sorrow. You despise yourself even more than you do Him.>_

_Help me._

_< I cannot. Only you can forgive yourself.>_

_She reached out to him, but he stepped back. Her image wavered. This was his burden to bear, a fate he earned and deserved._

_< Veigar!>_

_His dark magic lashed out at her, piercing through and shattering the apparition. The dream-walker was there no longer, only the eyes. Only the blood. Only the dead. His magic lingered around him in seething dark tendrils, each one a grim reminder, a witness, a proof of his guilt._

„ _Veigar,“ a slaughtered man at his feet whispered his name and grasped his ankle._

„ _Veigar,“ a dead woman wheezed, crawling at her unmaker. Veigar watched in horror as his victims became just what he so desired to turn them into; an amalgamation of rotting flesh, of one mind and a singular desire to devour him. He wanted to run, but found himself unable to move._

_This wasn't how the nightmare was supposed to go. They weren't supposed to fight back. They weren't supposed to touch him. They weren't supposed to open their hungry mouths at him._

_Help me._

_HELP ME!_

 

He woke from the nightmare choking on his own blood. It filled his nostrils and stained his dark fur, made it wet and heavy. Veigar flipped onto his side, coughing wildly whilst trying to catch a breath. His mind was still panicking; he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. It was like a ringing bell, loud and echoing.

„What have you done?“ he wheezed, barely able to crawl on all four. Blood was still flowing from his nose, dripping down on the colorful pillows. And there was no answer, only Lulu's rushed breaths to match his. The witch was standing by a small cabinet, leaning on it heavily; her body was shaking, her eyes once again glowing.

„So much for— _helpful_ magicks,“ Veigar spat when he finally managed to pull himself up, „no. No more. I'm getting out of here.“

„You are,“ Lulu panted, „we have to get out. I made a mistake. The time is wrong.“

He didn't care for her babbling. He didn't want to hear another damn word. He just wanted to take his things and leave as fast as possible, before she made him dream of something even worse.

„Three paces,“ the witch muttered, dug up his staff from underneath a pile of embroidered rugs and threw it at him, „hurry!“

He hissed when she grabbed his elbow to drag him out of the tent. Yes, he was going that way - but he didn't need any help. He wormed out of her grasp, his ears still ringing; another obnoxious sound took the place of his beating heart, a distant thunder that heralded a coming desert storm. He hated it. He hated everything.

„Stop touching me!“ he barked before she threw him out of the tent, but she was relentless, digging her little fingers into his fur as if their lives depended it.

It turned out that they actually did.

As soon as they fell out of the tent, a large shadow was cast over them. Veigar looked up and his eyes widened in wonder and dread; a massive beast unlike anything he'd ever seen was slowly moving in their direction, chained to many others of its kind. Entire houses were built upon their backs, bridges that crossed from one behemoth to another; together they carried a wandering city, slowly drifting through the desert.

„Come. Hurry!“ Lulu tugged him again, and for once he was inclined to agree. He quickly tied his loose robe and jumped over a large dune with her, sliding down the smooth sand and running out of the walking city's way. Not long after, one of the stone behemoths stomped down on Lulu's tent, crushing it underneath its massive foot.

„My hat!“

Lulu ignored his complaints, her eyes pinned on the giants. Her fairy companion lifted off her hair, sending a few bright sparkles towards the sky. A shrouded man appeared up on the side of one the beasts not long after, held by a rope and waving at the sorceress.

„ _Ahabi,_ Little Bird!“ he hollered, „we expected you an hour ago!“

„I know!“ Lulu yelled over the thundering beasts, „I was sleeping!“

„A new _mieli,_ eh?“ the man laughed; somebody from above threw him a rope ladder, and he let it unroll all the way down to the sands. The wandering city did not stop to pick up its passengers, and so they had to be quick.

„Come,“ Lulu beckoned Veigar, „you can spit and curse above in Sahali, but you'll die out here alone.“

Veigar growled; he wanted nothing more than to just turn around and march away, but the sorceress was right. He didn't even know where he was, and so climbing up and into the wandering city was now his best bet at staying alive. At least the bleeding had stopped.

„Make no mistake,“ he growled over his shoulder as he grasped the ladder, „our ways still part here. I won't be seduced and cajoled into becoming a willing dream subject for you again.“

„Of course,“ she said, chipper and careless. At that point, Veigar gave up on trying to understand her or even himself; he was bitter that she didn't care, he was bitter that he was likely to see her again, _he was bitter that he was bitter._ Either way, it soon became clear that parting ways with her was going to be no easy task; she was far more important for the Idun'ari treasure hunt than she had told him...

 

The wandering city of Sahali was no quiet place; with its inhabitants used to constantly having to shout over the stomping beasts, they were loud and boastful and obnoxious. This only became worse when Lulu left Veigar to be swallowed by the crowds and let her shrouded friend herald her arrival, announcing to all that the _Little Bird_ came to guide Sahali to the Idun'ari. Veigar didn't understand, and he couldn't ask, not now that he so stubbornly sent her away. The entire treasure hunt was starting to seem like a bad idea to him, but he couldn't stop now, not when he was so close - and not when he had nowhere to go from the wandering city. There was desert all around them, miles and miles of glistening dunes that would bury him if he tried escaping them.

He shared none of his concerns with the noisy but hospitable people of Sahali. They welcomed him and clothed him like they did many lost treasure hunters before him, and nicknamed him _Bat;_ he did look like one in the dark shuriman garbs they gave him. Most of the locals used nicknames for each other, supposedly to protect themselves from malicious dune demons; Veigar soon learned that many didn't even remember their names, being poor nomads that came to the desert seeking wealth and power only to settle aboard the wandering city.

In a way, Veigar envied them. He was too restless to just stop, to settle down. His endless thirst for knowledge propelled him forward. To stop meant to think, to reminisce. The only way of getting away from his past was to keep moving forward.

The family that took him in comprised solely of Vastayans; two sisters and the husband of one of them. The older sister had been traveling with Sahali for years now, whilst the younger only came there to try and be the first to set foot in the Idun'ai tomb after thousands of years. She was crafty, cunning, and saw an opportunity in Veigar. He made no effort to hide the fact that he was a mage and a powerful one at that, and suddenly every treasure hunter in Sahali wanted to curry a favor with him, hoping that he would be on their side if they were to find the tomb. He feigned disinterest in the Idun'ari treasures, which only made him more worthy in their eyes, and he did like attention. Almost as much as he liked expendable toadies he could get rid of at any time.

He smiled at the thought as he watched his trio of benefactors argue before him.

„Even with the warlock we won't get inside the tomb without the Little Bird,“ the younger Vastayan sister argued; both her skin and hair were a bright green shade, and she gave herself the nickname _Froglet._ Her husband, a dark-skinned cat-man called _Marsh_ , stood nearby and said nothing.

„She favors Shoe and his brothers. We'd need to make a deal with them,“ the older sister, _Trinket,_ mused aloud. „Offer them something they can't refuse.“

Veigar played with a gold necklace around his neck, wondering when they'd turn to him.

„The warlock could do magic for them. Bless the _dormun_ that carries their house, make it happy and flea-less.“

„Could you do that, Bat?“

Veigar smiled. „Perhaps. Why is Little Bird so important?“

„She's the only still living creature that's been to the tomb,“ Froglet said while her sister adjusted the long carpets hanging from the shabby walls. Veigar squinted as the room dimmed.

„She's ancient, then,“ he noted, „strange that I've not heard of her before.“

„Have you not?“ Marsh spoke in a low tone, quiet until now, „you came to Sahali together, did you not? I heard Shoe call you her _mieli._ “

„Coincidence,“ Veigar growled, „we're not lovers. We barely know each other.“

„I saw her look at you with that spark in her eyes,“ Trinket tapped her nose, „befriend Little Bird for us, Bat. Lure her to us.“

„Out of the question.“ Veigar snorted derisively. „I'd rather do cheap tricks for Shoe.“

„A proud man,“ Marsh hummed, „careful, Bat, so that you do not fly too close to the sun.“

Veigar didn't care for his lectures, or most of what the three of them had to say. They were means to an end and nothing more; the yordle didn't care for friendships or allegiances, and he was glad when they left to seek out the lucky brothers and left him alone in Trinket's abode. He was glad to have nobody around for a while; privacy was a luxury nobody in Sahali had. The little houses built atop the massive dormun rarely had more than two rooms, and even those were parted by nothing more than a hanging cloth or carpet. Sahalis simply shared everything with their friends and families, and Veigar disliked this greatly; he was used to having his own space, his peace.

As he lounged on his little pile of cushions, he summoned a freezing globe to help keep him cool. Noon was approaching quickly and Trinket's shack was turning into a boiling kettle, sitting directly underneath the desert sun with no houses above hers to shade it from the burning tyrant. Even with his magic and desperate panting Veigar felt as if he was frying alive, the fur around his wrists soaked in sweat.

„Gods damn it,“ he hissed angrily, pushing himself off his little plush throne. He grabbed his staff and trudged out of the little house, right into the open sun. Covering his brows with his forearm, he slid down a ladder past another house and skipped up a small stairway carved into the thick shell of the dormun beneath his feet. A narrow bridge led from the peak of the beast, connecting it with another, bigger one; the cluster of houses on the other side promised some shade, sanctuary from the sun. Music was playing somewhere nearby, but Veigar couldn't identify its source; his head was spinning from the heat, disorienting him.

Somehow he could see nobody around, and he couldn't tell whether he was imagining that or if everybody was simply smart enough to hide somewhere now that the sun had reached its prime. Only he, a lone shadow, was foolish enough to expose himself to the blazing sky.

There was a cluster of bone huts on the other side of the bridge, and little valleys of shade between them. Veigar sat down there, still breathing heavily. The beast beneath him was clearly superior at dealing with the heat, its shell cool where it was hidden from the sun; the warlock just collapsed on it, hugging the chilly scales in hopes of finding a little respite from the fever.

„Why are you outside during the _ahara?“_ a familiar voice asked just as Veigar started getting a little better, „and you call me mad!“

„Go away,“ Veigar groaned, his face buried in the behemoth's hide. Lulu stepped inside the shady alley and ducked down next to him.

„You look a little miserable,“ she noted, giggling, „let me help you.“

Her little companion tinkled above the warlock, sprinkling him with fairy dust. The heat started subsiding quickly, and Veigar finally dared look up. The witch seemed untouched by the sun, her purple mane flowing around her body; she didn't bother binding it.

„Who are you?“ Veigar asked again, „ _what_ are you?“

„Why, I'm a yordle like any other,“ she smiled, „what a peculiar question!“

„You've been to the Idun'ari tomb. It hasn't opened for thousands of years.“

„Time does not matter to the dreamer.“

„So you haven't actually been there,“ he growled, „you just _dreamed_ you were.“

„What's the difference?“ She tilted her head. „Do you not suffer from your nightmares as if they were real?“

„I've experienced those things. I was there, that's why it hurts. You've never actually been to the tomb - you have no idea what it looks like.“

„Pix shows me a lot of things,“ Lulu pointed at the fairy, once again nesting in her hair, „he says we'll meet a friend of his in the tomb. Isn't that exciting?“

Veigar squinted at the little glittering creature. „What kind of friend?“

„Good friend.“ She nodded, sitting down and folding her legs. „Like me and you could be if you stopped being so stubborn.“

„I don't want to be friends.“ Veigar pulled himself up on his knees. „I don't need friends.“

„See? Stubborn.“

He bared his fangs at her. „Why do you follow me? I told you our deal was over.“

„Because I want to.“ She rocked back and forth. „And because you want me to.“

„You're delusional.“ He stood up, neatening his black garb. „All I want is to see whatever is locked down the tomb and get out of this cursed place.“

She crawled back up on her legs and met his gaze. Her viridian eyes were calm, soothing. He stopped for a moment and just enjoyed her scrutinizing stare, those two green pools that drew him in, closer to her. Still he frowned and furrowed his thick brows, because he was too proud not to.

„All you _want_ is to steam in your own sauce,“ Lulu mused and waved her fingers in a whimsical gesture, „Veigar, roasted! And around him his hate and pity. Not good enough, never good enough. Why don't you let me be the judge of that?“

He opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to actually say.

„Unworthy, unworthy,“ the little witch continued, „I'll hurt her, I'll hurt her. Don't deserve, don't deserve. Those who don't live don't hurt. But you're already hurting.“

„I don't have time for this,“ he snarled and shoved her aside to get out of the alley. He wish he hadn't, and when he stopped to regret and perhaps apologize, she grabbed his elbow and held him there.

„You're difficult,“ she lowered her voice, her eyes flashing with something he didn't, couldn't believe: desire. „I know. You know. Still I want to want you, and I want you to let me.“

He loved hearing those words. But somehow he couldn't be happy with them. „Why me?“

„Because I'm shallow. Because your fur is the night sky, and your ears the waning moons.“

He perked his brows at the confession. He thought—he thought that she had pursued him as a curiosity, to mock his dreams and the affections he so stubbornly denied. Because ultimately, she was right - even if he dared not admit it, he _was_ drawn to her. She gave him something he craved for so long: an end to his loneliness. She was also right in that he didn't find himself deserving.

„Just lead me to the tomb,“ he pleaded with her quietly, desperately.

„Kiss me and I will.“

It was a little too much for him at that point. He allowed himself to slip, to give in, and suddenly he was holding her up against one of the bone walls, hungrily biting into her and trying to find the quickest way into her harem pants.

„Shh,“ Lulu whispered when he finally gave her lips some respite and pressed a finger to her mouth. Veigar didn't even bother undressing; he was content to pull down his trousers a little, and as soon as he managed to pull hers off, she locked her legs around his waist. He didn't rush it from there; he took his sweet time teasing her, grinding and pressing against her body and enjoying the impatient look on her face.

„What, can't wait a little?“ he mocked her, smiling „ _that_ thirsty for an old warlock?“

„Mean,“ she puffed her cheeks and wrapped her arms around his neck to capture him in another kiss. He didn't linger for long after that; he was far too agitated and excited to play games now. His hands slid down underneath her, and as soon as he had a good hold on her, he shoved himself inside her. He was grateful then that she kept his mouth busy; her plea for quietness went unheard, his moans fortunately muffled by her lips.

„We'll hide next time,“ Lulu escaped his fangs and tongue and nibbled on his twitching ear, „I like you loud.“

Veigar bit into his cheek as he set himself into a steady pace, his thrusts pushing her up and down the bone wall. She dug her little dainty nails into his back and he never felt so right, so _wanted;_ to have her tug his fur like she truly needed him was better than magic, better than the _fucking_ , and he swore he'd make her happy first this time—

Lulu, far more provident than the overconfident mage, forcibly pulled him into another kiss just as he was coming. He groaned and whimpered into her mouth, so vulnerable in that overwhelming moment of bliss.

„Sorry,“ he whined softly when he managed to regain his senses, „I wanted to—„

„You _wanted_ to show me where Trinket, Marsh and Froglet took you,“ she interrupted him when he slowly lowered himself to the floor with her still in his lap, „there you'll have plenty time to make up for this...“

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sticky ropes still connecting his groin with Lulu's. „Yes... In a moment.“

She ran her fingers through the messy fur lining his face, petting and caressing him like something dear, something precious. He rested his head against her chest and prayed it was true; that there really was somebody who could cherish him.

 


	3. The Third Dreaming

_He woke in a circle of flowers._

_A thick forest surrounded the meadow he was resting upon, and despite the inherent serenity the place possessed, Veigar could not shake a gnawing suspicion of danger in the vicinity. He was confused, as he did not recall this enchanting place, this glimmering glade full of colorful blooms and little ponds. After he slowly sat up, his bewilderment only grew; suddenly he was looking at himself, seated on a throne of moss rocks and ivy, and this other him beheld him with smugness and poorly masked disdain._

„ _Be so kind and pick up your chin off the ground,“ the other Veigar said in an insufferably condescending tone, „I would've thought you saw more curious things.“_

„ _What?“ the warlock managed, „who are you?“_

„ _Who am I?“ his doppelganger mused the question; his eyes flashed with violet energy, and the crown of lilies atop his head sprouted a few more blooms. „Why, I think we've already been introduced.“_

_The real Veigar stood up and neatened his garb. Unlike his strange twin, he was clothed, and there were fortunately no weeds growing on or from him._

„ _I'll give you a hint,“ the double leaned forward, baring his fangs, „I watched you. I saved you. I go where she goes.“_

„ _Lulu's fairy?“ Veigar squinted. „What's the meaning of this? Why do you look like me?“_

„ _Because we're in your mind, little one,“ the doppelganger rested back against his throne, „mortals do not possess the capacity to grasp the true form of fey.“_

_Something stirred between the trees surrounding them, but no matter how hard he tried, Veigar could never truly see who or what moved through the darkened wood._

„ _So why are we here?“ the warlock asked, „is this another experiment of Lulu?“_

„ _No. She does not know about this,“ the yordle in front of him smiled, „and if you've any wisdom, it will also stay that way.“_

„ _Ah, good. I did wonder when I'd have to deal with competition.“_

„ _Those are some bold words and fiery stares for somebody so small.“_

_Veigar growled. „I do not like being threatened.“_

„ _And I do not threaten you,“ his twin affirmed, lifting off the throne and floating freely through the glade, „I care for Lulu's fate. She's quite unique, you know.“_

„ _Why do you tell me this?“ Veigar opened his arms, „it's not my intention to do her harm.“_

„ _Me and her, we've been on this path for some time,“ other-Veigar flew down to his true image, „you crave power, so I tell you: what lies in the Idun'ari tomb is for her to take, not you.“_

_The warlock folded his arms. „Why is that?“_

„ _That is none of your concern.“_

„ _She told me we were going to meet a 'friend' of yours there,“ Veigar noted, „tell me what lies in the tomb.“_

„ _Hmmm,“ the fairy hummed, hovering back to his throne. „So she did. It is true - an old acquaintance of mine was unfortunate enough to have gotten captured and buried with the Idun'ari. I wish to free him.“_

„ _A fairy?“_

„ _You could say so, I suppose,“ Pix mused, „I've a favor with him I need to collect.“_

„ _What does Lulu have to do with this?“_

„ _There is a mirror beneath the sands,“ the twin image explained, „among the treasures of the Idun'ari, it lies dim and forgotten. Only Lulu can see it for it truly is: a prison made to hold something far more ancient than humanity. Only she can open it.“_

„ _I still do not see my role in this.“_

„ _It is quite simple,“ Pix waved his hand and looked into the treeline, „take whatever you wish from the tomb, but do not touch the mirror. Do not look into it. Do not meddle.“_

_Veigar tapped his claws against his forearm. He wasn't quick to trust, especially not when dragged into some lost corner of his mind and confronted by a twisted image of himself._

„ _I'll see what I can do,“ he said after a while, „I'm not interested in old mirrors or faerie bargains, so unless it poses a threat to me, I'll leave it be.“_

„ _Should you heed my plea, you will earn my favor,“ Pix smiled again, „and a favor with the feyfolk is nothing to scoff at, my friend.“_

_Veigar nodded. „So be it, then. Now send me back; I already miss her.“_

_As the world around him dimmed, Veigar could swear he caught a glance of something great and terrible within the swallowing dark. It was gone far too quickly however, and he'd forgotten its dreadful shapes right after; his consciousness faded, and he was left to his slumber._

  
  


„...And then Gaggle pulls out an ace out of his sleeve, and Trinket's like, bullshit! I saw you pocket it from the deck earlier! And I was so mad that the prick cheated that I threw my boot at him, and that's how I got the nickname.“

It was laughter that awakened Veigar for real this time, and he groaned. He simply could not have a peaceful awakening for once, without strange apparitions, blood, noise or near-death.

At least his sourness passed quickly this time, after he'd realized he was still resting with his head in Lulu's lap. She stroked through his fur, smiling down at him and sliding her hand down his body to tangle her fingers with his. His annoyed growl became a content purr.

„And he awakens,“ Marsh said when Veigar turned onto his side to behold the gathered company. Trinket, Froglet, her husband and Shoe with his brothers were all gathered in the Vastayans' hideout, sitting around a glass hookah and playing a game Veigar did not recognize. They must've come here after he fell asleep, exhausted by Lulu and her nigh insatiable desire to make love to him.

„The king of liars,“ Trinket puffed a ring of smoke and moved a red stone on the game board before her, „so much for not knowing the Little Bird and strange coincidences.“

„Careful, Trinket,“ Lulu smiled, „it's my _mieli_ you're mocking here. I could change my mind about showing you the tomb!“

The Vastayan woman laughed. „So be it! I don't care for tombs or treasures, Little Bird. It's my sister who has these foolish ideas of wealth hidden beneath the dunes.“

Veigar pulled himself up to his knees and nuzzled against Lulu's shoulder. She pulled him back into her embrace, and the entire world outside it ceased to matter to him for that moment.

„Aw, look at them. They're like two plushies come to life.“

„Adorable, adorable,“ Shoe mumbled, „leave that fondling and smooching for _after_ you've made your turn, Little Bird!“

„Oh, yes,“ Lulu looked at Veigar, who now lounged lazily in her arms, „how about you make it for me, pet?“

„I never played this,“ Veigar noted, shifting so that he could rest his back against her. She was quick to clasp her arms around him again. „What are the rules?“

„We roll a set of dice,“ the little witch explained, „then you move one of our stones that number of fields. We are blue.“

„Very well.“ Veigar looked around the game board, and when he found the pair of die, he flicked them with magic. Nothing in the world could make him leave Lulu's cozy embrace.

„Eight,“ the sorceress looked at the stones, „I think it would be best to move the second to last blue stone.“

„But that way it will end up on the same field as one of the red ones.“

„Yes,“ Lulu stuck out her tongue, „which means the red one will have to return to the start as we take its spot.“

„Alas,“ Veigar flashed a devious smile and flipped the unfortunate red stone into Trinket's face, much to Shoe's amusement. „Begone, worm.“

„I see my hospitality is truly being appreciated,“ Trinket growled as the yordles giggled, „I'm starting to see why some Demacians call your kind _wicked scamps._ “

„Cheeky,“ Shoe rolled the dice to make his turn, „show some respect to our scamp overlords, Trinket, or they'll bite your kneecaps.“

The company started laughing again, and Veigar closed his eyes to enjoy that fleeting moment of carefree bliss. It all seemed so surreal, to have gone from _dying_ to _jubilant_ within the span of a few days, to be held by somebody dear, to find a little happiness in this damned world that never gave him anything but misery.

„Do you hear that?“ Froglet asked after a horn echoed into the night outside, „the storm is coming.“

„ _Yahri-idun mika tay,“_ Lulu said in a language Veigar didn't recognize, „we'll have to finish our game another time, then.“

Shoe stood up, leaving the board and looking at the little sorceress. „It is time to choose, then. Are you coming, Little Bird?“

„In a bit,“ Lulu smiled, „us two - we need to discuss something first.“

„ _Discuss_ ,“ one of Shoe's brothers snorted, „sure. Don't dally, Little Bird. The hunters are impatient.“

Veigar watched the ragtag company get up from their seats and pillows and leave them alone in Trinket's little house. It was no longer as hot; the night outside was chilly, the cold soaking inside through the shabby walls and keeping the yordles cool.

„What is it?“ the warlock asked after a while, turning his head. Lulu slid her hand down his fuzzy chest, over his stomach and lower.

„Nothing,“ she said after her fingers disappeared in his pants, „nothing at all.“

„Did you just make up that excuse to _enjoy_ me for a bit longer?“ he bent and spread his legs to give her better access, „I'm but a poor old man, Lulu. A sore old man.“

„A withered elder!“ she cried, „a parched antediluvian! He who is but a shade standing above his grave, ready to depart! Say, Veigar - since you so enjoy pretending you're something you're not, how about we play a game?“

„Eh?“ he huffed when she stopped teasing him, much to his dismay. „What kind of a game?“

She hugged his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. „I want you pretend to be the last Idun'ari king, and I'll be Pix' unlucky friend.“

„Ah,“ Veigar wriggled out of her grasp and turned around to face her with a grin, „sounds like _somebody_ wants to be chained up.“

„Mmm-hmm,“ Lulu hummed, smiling. Her gaze was pinned at something behind him, or perhaps nothing at all; she was imagining things. He lifted his hand to make those dreams come true, but a thought stopped him from going through with the spell.

„Come with me,“ he whispered, dark sparks dancing around his claws, „after this hunt is over.“

„Where?“

„Anywhere. I'll grant you every wish, bring you a piece of the sky if you want me to.“

„But you are a piece of the sky,“ she mused, „look how your eyes shine now - like the stars, Veigar. Like the stars.“

He leaned against her, pushing her to the carpeted floor. Dark magic lashed from his hand. „Did the last king of the Idun charm the spirit into captivity, then?“

„He did now,“ Lulu tilted her head as ethereal chains tightened around her wrists, „oh, woe is me - damn your wiles, sorcerer.“

„I suppose that's what you get for trespassing in my domain,“ he smiled down at her, bringing the bindings together behind her back, „now that you're in my power - are you afraid?“

„Bah, of little chains?“ Lulu settled in her role quickly, „you'll have to try harder than that.“

„I don't see you breaking them,“ he leaned down, rolling up her tunic and pressing his nose to her stomach, „you'll lose that tone when you realize I can do whatever I wish to you now.“

„Like what?“ A spark of fear flashed in her eyes; her acting was impeccable. Of course - she was a dreamer, after all.

„Perhaps I could see what it's like to have an ancient spirit for a plaything,“ his tongue traced her soft skin up to her ribs, „now that's something I haven't done yet - defiled an elder god...“

„You wouldn't dare.“

He drew away from her, eyeing the perfectly helpless sorceress before him. Something about that image was so incredibly arousing, so right, so _familiar._ Perhaps that was why he could not carry on.

„Veigar?“

„I...“ He paused, his sight turned inwards, at his flowing memories. „I don't think I can do this.“

As the chains loosened, Lulu lifted herself up on her elbows. He avoided her gaze, instead drawing back and into himself.

„You've seen this before,“ she said, „you've been there. And you were truly helpless.“

„It seems so surreal, Lulu,“ he narrowed his eyes, „I've been to Noxus, seen the capital they built above the Immortal Bastion. When I walked the lower streets at night, I could still hear the screams. But to them, it's just a symbol.“

She pulled him into her gentle embrace, and he felt at home. Nothing could hurt him there, neither the Black King nor the barbed chains of his cursed domain.

„I despise humanity,“ he confessed in her arms, „but even as I stood there, surrounded by everything I hated, I couldn't bring myself to collapse the city and bury everything that haunts me, not with all the people there. Why?“

„Hmm,“ Lulu hummed, „do you want an obnoxiously saccharine answer, or a scarily chipper one?“

Veigar chuckled. „Why not both?“

„Ah, the mister is demanding!“ she cried, „very well - I think you have a hard time killing innocents because you're ultimately a good spirit, like all yordles are. You've a big heart.“

„So, was that obnoxiously saccharine or scarily chipper?“

„The former, obviously,“ Lulu tilted her head and flashed her fangs in a devious grin, „now for the chipper one: this is because you simply lacked sufficient support. I am certain that if we returned there and I cheered for you a little, you'd have less qualms about committing mass murder.“

He started laughing; he wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. He wanted to ask, but then decided against it; he was content not knowing for sure, thinking that perhaps his past and hatred meant nothing to her, that she was drawn to him for what he was, not what he could be.

They didn't speak any more, not until the wind began blowing sharply against and around the hut they were snuggling in; it was then that Lulu decided it was time to follow the Sahalis to the _wandering court,_ a large tent pitched atop the greatest dormun in the city caravan. Adorned with bones and beads and desert mallows, it served as the meeting place of all the Sahali clans and families. Veigar assumed they had gathered because of the storm, and in a way he was right.

It was so much more than that.

  
  


The storm they were entering quickly gained on forte, and more of the nomads had to descend from their cozy lairs and guide the massive dormun through the hostile sands. Lulu sent Pix to be the guiding beacon of the caravan and then disappeared, leaving Veigar to contend with the crowd at the wandering court. He stood out; small, dark and quiet, it was painfully obvious that he did not belong among the cheerful Sahalis. For a long time, he sat alone, having no clan or family to mingle and celebrate with, until he was finally beckoned over by Marsh to lounge with the Vastayans.

„So what is this about?“ he asked after Froglet graciously lent him one of her cushions. He was offered wine and cheese bread, both of which he refused; instead he focused on a feather effigy that lie in their midst, adorned with fur and scales. It seemed like every clan brought something of its like, and Veigar wondered if the gathering was to be religious.

„It's tradition,“ Trinket looked down, at the lantern she was holding her lap. „To offer something to the desert spirits each year and hope that they will bless us with fortune.“

„What's the point of it? You know that Lulu will guide you to the tomb this year.“

„Yes,“ Marsh nodded, „but not all of us can go. The most worthy of us must be chosen to travel alongside you and the Little Bird.“

Veigar growled with satisfaction. He liked having his spot guaranteed. „How is the choice made, then?“

The Vastayans didn't answer him, instead pointing over to a family of dark-skinned Shurimans that had just started singing. One of their women jumped to her feet and walked around to offer little snacks and lucky coins, both of which the warlock refused. Marsh took his ration instead, stuffing himself and pocketing the clinking coins. He lit a long glass pipe shortly afterwards, filling the air of their corner with apple-scented smoke. The atmosphere of the wandering court was so lazy, warm and welcoming that Veigar almost fell asleep; he was only saved from this fate when a gaggle of masked, cheering Sahalis burst into the large tent and began yelling obscenities.

„Stinky, bothersome mortals,“ Veigar recognized Shoe's voice in one of the screeching creatures, „how dare you call us here?“

„O spirits!“ Trinket cried and stood up, „we bring you gifts, pretty things!“

There five of them, those masked dervishes; four men and a little one, and Veigar figured it could be nobody else but Lulu. She had ash in her mane, but no amount of it could truly conceal that vibrant purple. At least she got her little game of acting here, walking between the gathered families and pretending to be a malicious dervish from the sands.

„Oh, oh,“ Shoe ducked down in the middle of the wandering court, his skirt of torn cloth rustling on the ground, „they better be good, very good!“

„Because if they're not, we'll curse this entire city,“ another of the masked men said, „and the dunes will swallow it!“

„I see nothing of interest,“ Shoe huffed, „look at their pathetic offerings!“

„Shush,“ Lulu cried, „I will decide this, you dumb magpies. Show me what you've brought!“

She kicked Shoe out of his place and shooed her 'spirits' away, to the walls. Then she sat in the circle of gathered families like a roosting queen of desert vultures, waiting to be brought the Sahalis' humble offerings.

„Look!“ called a young man from a large family and lifted a pair of tiny shoes, „for you, spirit - so you may walk the mortal world with ease!“

„Ha!“ brayed the masked witch when the cobbler ran to her and began putting the boots on her bare feet, „and why would I want to? The mortal world is no good, no good! But very well - I will consider this. Perhaps they will be of use to me when I come prey upon your frail and weak...“

The clans laughed, and Veigar smiled at Lulu's performance. It was all so silly, yet he was content simply being there and observing the sorceress.

„It is said spirits are drawn to mortal arts,“ another man stood up, holding a wooden flute, „perhaps you will like our music, then!“

His entire family - father, three sisters and wife - rose to their feet with their instruments; Lulu laughed when they began fiddling their wild melodies. They were all quite skilled in their craft, but their tunes were so jolly and comical that the little sorceress simply could not help herself.

„Good, keep playing!“ she yelled at them and pointed at the Vastayans, „now you, cat-men and lizard-girls! What do you have for me?“

„No silly strumming or mortal garments,“ answered Marsh and lifted their effigy, „look - a sacrifice we made in your name, o desert devils. Each of us gave a piece of them to make this idol, to prove how we value your blessings!“

„Grim!“ Lulu jumped up, „a fetish to remind of the good and obedient little morsels! And you, warlock - what do you have for me?“

It took Veigar a moment to realize she was speaking to him. „Me?“

„Nay, the _other_ yordle warlock!“ Lulu screeched and threw her hands in the air, much to the amusement of the gathered families. „Yes, you. What, did you come with _no_ offerings at all?!“

Veigar blinked in surprise. He looked around to see what he could salvage from his surroundings, but then he got a better idea.

„Of course not!“ he argued as he stood up, „I bring _myself,_ and that is my offering.“

„Ha! And what would I do with you?“ Lulu circled him like a hungry jackal, „eat your flesh? Wear your skin as a coat?“

„Whatever you wish,“ Veigar joined his hands behind his back, „my body and my soul are yours.“

„You are truly lucky that I am feeling merciful today,“ the masked enchantress postured, „I'll let you keep your blood and bones - but you will give me a dance.“

She took his hand and dragged him to where she 'roosted' before; they stood in the middle of the wandering court, with all eyes on them now, and Veigar bared his fangs in a smug sneer.

„If you can, that is,“ Lulu whispered when he grabbed her waist; she waved at the fiddling family to keep going. The warlock spun her in a half-circle to feel her weight.

„I've been alive for a few thousand years,“ he pulled her closer, „what do you think?“

„Must've been hard finding a teacher as a yordle!“

„They become a whole lot more willing after you've threatened to kill their entire family in case they refused.“

Her eyes widened underneath the mask; Veigar couldn't tell if it was surprise, fear or amusement, and he didn't care to find out right now. Their unfinished business earlier had left him yearning for more, and he was glad to be so close to Lulu again. He pressed his hips against hers to let her feel the extent of this before swinging away from her.

„I've got the feeling you'd rather be doing something else,“ the enchantress noted, setting her hands on her hips and hopping in her spot in front of him, „naughty, naughty bat.“

„Can you blame me?“ he said and imitated her steps before taking ahold of her again and leading her in a quick tempo of one of the many Vastayan dances, „you know how much I _love_ my nightmares, and you look like one now.“

„Cheer up, would you?“ she noted dryly; Veigar's company began whistling and clapping, and the other Sahalis were quick to join. They didn't see two yordles dancing every day. „Being that cynical can't be healthy!“

„Neither is torture, but I'm resilient.“ He smiled when she kept trying to cut the distance between them, forcing him to step out of her way. „So, how are you going to choose who goes to the tomb and who doesn't?“

Lulu grew tired of chasing him and turned around, her mane rustling behind her. He couldn't bear their separation and so he pursued her instead, falling out of the rhythm of the Bandle polka; she raised her arms just as he wrapped his around her.

„I hear there's a man here that can open any lock,“ she cried, „he'd be good company to the spirits on our way through the buried temples - come with us, and we shall reward you!“

The masked man cheered, forgetting that he was supposed to not give away his identity so easily. His brothers flocked to him when Lulu called their names - Gaggle, Gawker and Growler - and together they riled the rest of the wandering court into dance.

„Tell me whom else to pick,“ the sorceress whispered to Veigar when she turned back to him; he squeezed her close, as if she could suddenly get lost in the crowd that now surrounded them.

„Not Marsh or Trinket,“ he hummed into her ear, their pace slowing down to an intimate waltz despite the chipper music, „they're too smart, too suspicious. Take Froglet and somebody else who has the brawn but not the brains.“

„You see traitors all around you,“ Lulu stroked his shoulder, „are you afraid that the Sahalis will try to get rid of you so they can keep the treasure to themselves?“

He pressed his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. „Not if I strike first.“

She frowned. „Tense. Devious. Veigar - I don't want you to kill them. They're good people.“

„Nobody is a good person when faced with great power, be it money or magic.“

„Will you murder me so you don't have to share the treasure, then?“

He stopped in his tempo, gently grabbing the little enchantress and picking her up in his arms. He was a little ashamed that he had to use magic for his frail body to even be able to do that - then again, nobody needed to know that.

„Of course,“ he sneered, „unless you're the treasure yourself.“

„How very cheesy,“ she sighed theatrically and clapped her hands, „alas, the spirit queen tires. Go, warlock - take me into the storm.“

He was happy to oblige, and while the temple was yet to show itself, Veigar welcomed the chance to get away from the crowd and spend some time with just Lulu, listening to the howling wind and scattering sands.

At least that way they had an opportunity to finish what they couldn't earlier.

 


	4. The Fourth Dreaming

„He's coming.“

The wind outside whistled so loudly that it almost drowned out Lulu's moans, and Veigar despised it. He was growing more addicted to the sound by the second, breathing heavy sighs into her flicking ear after every laboured thrust.

„He's coming,“ the enchantress groaned in a pleading tone, digging her nails into the warlock's back. The pain only spurred him on and into a quicker pace; he knew he couldn't stave off his peak for much longer now. The sensation was overwhelming.

„He's coming—„

„He sure is,“ Veigar growled; his entire body froze in an intense spasm as he finally released his pent-up tension, writhing and whimpering atop the sorceress in a shared climax.

„He's here,“ the sorceress panted after Veigar caught his breath and began kissing sweat off her forehead. He looked into her hazy, content eyes, a question in his. The beast carrying their shack brayed and slowed down, and Veigar frowned.

„We're here then,“ he whispered, „the tomb—„

„—Can wait a little,“ Lulu giggled and locked her legs around him, „do it again - that thing with your tongue...“

  


When they stood in the storm an hour or so later, Veigar wasn't sure if Lulu and Pix led them to the right place after all. There was nothing in front of them there, no tomb and no treasures, only miles of sand in every direction. They left Sahali far behind as Lulu claimed it would be in danger in the proximity of the Idun'ari tomb, _but there was no damn tomb here._

„This is awkward,“ Shoe noted after a while of staring into nothingness. Veigar folded his arms, glancing over the rest of their company and then back to Lulu.

„Magnificent,“ the sorceress sighed in wonder, and Veigar too wondered, he _wondered_ whether she had lost her mind for good.

„Lulu?“

She cupped her hands and let her helper fairy land in them. She shot a single mischievous smile over her shoulder, and then lifted Pix to her mouth to swallow him whole. Veigar blinked, dashing towards her.

„Lulu!“

She coughed, but nothing else happened; no dramatic explosions, fainting, screaming. Though when she turned to the company again, her eyes weren't hers anymore; they glinted with otherworldly energy, fey magic and secrets best left unspoken. Froglet, Shoe and his brothers didn't understand; Veigar did, and he didn't like it one bit.

„Behold,“ Lulu called out boldly, in a tone they'd never heard her speak, „the old kings have hidden it well, but a little bit of sand is no match for my power.“

The dunes beneath them trembled as the petite sorceress lifted her arms. Shoe yelped, clinging onto the vastayan girl; Veigar almost fell over as he struggled to maintain his balance on the shaky ground. Suddenly, they were going up; something was rising directly beneath them, something massive.

„It's been so long!“ Lulu yelled over the thundering sound of the colossal golden pyramid ascending from the dunes, her sprawling mane curling with wild magic, „but today - today I will be given what I am owed!“

„Azir's tits,“ Shoe cried, „it's gold. It's _all_ gold! We're rich!“

„Stop,“ Veigar barked at the man when he fell to his knees and tried scratching some gold off the platform beneath them, „we don't know what magic is at play here.“

It didn't take much longer for Lulu to raise the entire tomb from the sands. Veigar had seen a lot in his long life, but even he was amazed at the sight; the glinting behemoth beneath them put the sun itself to shame, and they all felt like kings and queens standing at its very peak. Only Lulu spent no time gasping in wonder and fantasizing; instead she began stepping down the long stair leading to the bottom of the pyramid, ancient symbols glowing beneath her feet as she treaded the enchanted stone. Veigar hurried after her, cursing the ancient architects; the steep stairway was not made for short yordle legs.

„Be careful with her,“ he whispered and squeezed Lulu's hand, „mortal bodies have limits, Pix.“

„Of course.“ The enchantress was made to smile, her violet hair obscuring her possessed eyes. „I will need her.“

Veigar frowned, but before he could ask any more, he was forced to balance himself once more as Shoe as his brothers ran down the long staircase, almost trampling both of the yordles. Lulu didn't try to stop or slow them, apathetic to their fate; neither did Froglet, cautiously stepping after the furry scamps.

When they finally reached the foot of the ziggurat in their own leisurely pace, the humans were already trying to open the great door leading inside. Littered with more symbols unfamiliar to Veigar, the gate would not budge, no matter how hard Gaggle tried barrelling through it.

„There ain't a keyhole!“ Shoe cried, „I'm the door-opened here, alright - but I can't open this.“

„Don't worry, little friend,“ Lulu smiled, stepping forward and placing a hand on the golden gate, „you'll serve your purpose - just not yet.“

Torrents of violet magic engulfed the door, awakening the symbols and with them the mechanism that opened the passage. With much rumbling and wheezing, the glinting barrier lifted and presented them with a dark portal. Lulu stepped in without a word; the rest exchanged an uncertain look, then followed her.

There was no light inside the pyramid, only an ubiquitous feeling of being watched by something sinister. It seethed all around them, and Veigar feared what may have lurked in the dark, willing to forgo vision for the sake of blissful ignorance. Unfortunately, the humans were not as wise or patient as he was.

„I don't see anything,“ Shoe complained, „Gaggle, is there a torch on the walls or something?“

The warlock felt the large man shove him aside and step ahead of the expedition, feeling the walls with his hands. The sound of his shuffling was growing more distant, until they could hear nothing anymore; after a minute of silence, Lulu giggled, and the hallway suddenly became illuminated with hazy azure light, radiating from crystal globes set in the golden walls.

„Good job!“ Shoe yelled, his voice echoing in the long passage. He'd gotten no answer, and Gaggle wasn't returning.

„Gaggle?!“

„You'll see him soon,“ Lulu assured him, not slowing down for a second. Veigar shuddered at her ominous answer, his eyes darting around the hallway; the luminosity provided by the crystals was not strong enough to reach the tall ceiling, and warlock could not shake the feeling that something was waiting for them just beyond the weak light. Whenever he set his eyes back on the path before them, he could've sworn he saw something writhing at the edge of his vision, but once he tried staring at the dark directly, he saw no movement, nothing. It was unnerving, and he was reminded of the strange things he saw in the nightmare he shared with Pix.

„They were so afraid,“ Lulu whispered, leaning to the warlock, „of things they didn't understand. He served them for so long, but once they saw that he could destroy them at any time, they decided to lock him up.“

„Your friend.“ Veigar felt as if they were walking in circles. He focused on a particular symbol reminiscent of a man with a shield that he kept seeing over and over; each time the warrior seemed more weary, more withered. „They betrayed him.“

„They did, but Idun knew they were coming. He let them imprison him, because that way he did not have to face what he feared the most.“

„What did he fear?“ Veigar asked, already suspecting the answer.

„Me.“

They walked in silence then, and Veigar squeezed Lulu's shoulder in hopes that she was still there, under Pix' sorcery and will. It was painful to watch her become his host, and he worried like he never had before, his heart beating in an anxious rhythm that called for him to turn and run with Lulu in his arms. It was too late for that now however, and he could only walk in her steps and hope that whatever Pix' plan was, it would not become their undoing.

What seemed like a circular pathway at last came to an end, and their way was once again barred by a golden port. This one bore no mysterious symbols, only a single carving of a skeletal figure holding an urn of ashes, and Veigar figured they were standing in front of the burial chamber. Two pedestals stood by the sides of this gateway, one right and one left, prepared to hold something - or someone.

„Gawker, Growler,“ Lulu said as she stopped before the beautiful entrance, „be so kind and stand by the door.“

The brothers obeyed, and once the pedestals felt their weight atop them, the gate began opening just like the previous. The twins crossed their arms on their chests in a strangely synchronized way and remained standing there, much to the bewilderment of their eldest sibling.

„Do they have to keep standing there?“ Shoe asked, „who will carry the treasure?“

„We wouldn't get out without them,“ Lulu noted simply and stepped into the funerary hall, „don't worry about it...“

He grumbled and mumbled, though he soon forgot his concerns after he stepped in after the enchantress; aside from hosting a glum row of catafalques, the chamber also held _mountains_ of glistening coins, gems and other treasures. Shoe squeaked in excitement; Froglet gasped.

„I ain't just rich,“ the man cried and jumped at the nearest pile of gold, „I could buy the _entire_ Shurima! I'm a king! An emperor!“

Veigar scoffed at Shoe's antics, his eyes still set on the little witch. She didn't care for her companions' obsession with wealth and instead made her way to the second largest sarcophagus, one adorned with glass flowers and a single jeweled crown. She took the circled in her hands, lifting it from the coffin and turning to Froglet. The vastaya was just cautiously biting into a coin she'd found, testing its genuinity; she too was amazed with what they had found, though she was not screeching about it like Shoe.

„Ribbit ribbit, little tadpole,“ Lulu chittered, „how would you like becoming a queen?“

„Uh,“ Froglet coughed, „I think I'm good.“

„Move it,“ Veigar growled, „we're all doing our part, now do yours.“

„Alright, alright,“ Froglet dropped the coin and raised her hands in a defensive gesture, „calm down, I'm coming.“

She stepped forward to the sorceress, an uncertain look in her eyes. She wasn't as gullible as the brothers, but even she had to obey Lulu's call now, and so she bowed her head to be crowned with the jewel. As soon as the circlet sat in her jade hair, her eyes became aflame with the same essence that illuminated their path, and she winced and twitched as if she was in great pain.

„The heck?!“ Shoe yelped from his treasure pile when the vastaya began wailing, and Veigar made a step back. Lulu's eyes glimmered with fury and triumph, and she spread her arms in a welcoming gesture.

„ _Ahabi,_ Aradia!“ she laughed, „it's been too long.“

Froglet spasmed and huffed until at last her soul came to terms with its poor fate; the edges of her body shimmered and blurred as she was being pulled over to the spirit world, to rest with the dead and the lost.

 _< The Prince of Lilies,> _a voice echoed throughout the chamber when the vastaya finally stood before them not as herself, but a vessel of a woman long since gone, _< it seems that there truly is no rest for the wicked.>_

„On the contrary,“ Lulu smiled and joined her hands behind her back, „Idun has rested for a bit too long.“

_< Our souls are chained to this place so he may never escape.>_

„I'm aware. I come to free you from your duty.“

_< We chose our fate. Our sacrifice means that our ancestors are safe from Idun's atrocities.>_

„You need not worry about that. I'm fully capable of keeping him in check.“

Froglet's hollow eyes filled with sorrow. _< Why do you come now, Prince of Lilies? Why do you tempt me with your promises?>_

„Because it's only now that I have found a solution to this,“ Lulu pleaded with her, „something to keep him chained, contained.“

Suddenly, the lost queen looked at Veigar. _< And what of him? His heart burns for her.>_

Lulu frowned at the warlock. Veigar pursed his lips; he decided not to interfere. He saw enough rituals go awry in his life.

„You leave that to me, Aradia. Show me the way to Idun and be free.“

The lost queen sighed, and then she departed, along with Froglet; the vastaya's body blurred and dissipated into ethereal mist until there was nothing left of it, only the crown that brought the two of them together. With nothing to hold it anymore, it fell and clinked on the golden floor. The queen's sarcophagus creaked and cracked then, slowly sliding aside and revealing a narrow passage leading somewhere deeper into the pyramid.

„Where is she?“ Shoe asked after he joined the yordles, holding a pile of coins and with a dozen of golden chains hanging around his neck, „where is Froglet?“

„Safe,“ Lulu hummed, stepping onto the revealed stairway, „don't worry about it, friend. You'll see her soon.“

„Alright, well,“ Shoe mumbled, hopping after her, „it's fine if I keep these as we go on, right? I never want to be poor again.“

„Certainly.“

Veigar chortled at the man's stupidity, following Lulu down the obscured steps. The light was dimmed here, and the warlock could barely see his companions' outlines; the only thing clearly visible were Lulu's possessed eyes. What guided them was not their sight, anyway; it was the sound of heaved breaths, growing louder the deeper they went. They were approaching the prison, and there was only one thing between them and their destination now: the last of the golden gateways.

„A sacrifice was made here eons ago,“ Lulu whispered into the dark, „Shoe, at last you will open a door for us.“

„I don't see a keyhole,“ the man pondered, „tell me how.“

Instead of answering him, the enchantress turned to Veigar. „You've been itching for action, haven't you? Do it - reveal the prison of Idun, Veigar of Immortal Bastions.“

The warlock growled, reaching for the dark magic within him. He tapped his staff against the stair beneath him, tendrils of inky sorcery bursting forth from it.

„What's going on?“ Shoe asked, and those were the last words he'd ever said; Veigar's magic engulfed his body, and there was nothing the man or his treasure could do to stop him from being torn apart. The door was sprayed with fresh blood, and it accepted the sacrifice offered; Veigar watched it open with a blank stare, entirely dulled to death and gruesome violence by the centuries it was carried out by and on him. His nerves were steeled and prepared for whatever lie in the depths of the Idun'ari tomb; when they found nothing but a tall, shrouded mirror, he was almost disappointed. The looking glass stood in the middle of an otherwise empty chamber, and the seething breaths they'd been hearing were coming directly from behind the velvety cover.

Lulu spread her arms and laughed.

„You thought you were free of me,“ she cried as she approached the mirror, „foolish Idun - pacts made with me are eternal, not so easily shaken.“

Whatever was hidden behind the drape whimpered in fear, and Veigar wondered what kind of pact Lulu had made with the fey prince if she was willing to give him complete control over her mind and body. What did he promise her in their deal - and what was the price?

„Now it's your turn to fulfill your part of the bargain,“ Lulu smiled at the warlock, grabbing the lining of the heavy cloth, „stand aside, and you will gain the favor of the Prince of Lilies.“

„At what cost?“

The possessed enchantress smiled, tugging the drape. „I think you already know.“

He did. He suspected it from the moment Lulu swallowed the fairy, from the moment he saw her so easily become a vessel for something else, but he wanted to believe that perhaps Pix had a different plan, that he was going to use _him_ or anybody else from the expedition to chain Idun and make him do his bidding. But the fairy prince never intended that; it was the dreamer girl he had prepared for the task, and whatever he promised to her in exchange was worth the price for her. Worth her own soul, everything.

She was willing to pay. Veigar, however, _wasn't._

He watched so many suffer in front of his eyes, creatures that were not worth his effort, not worth saving. Centuries of agony made him so bitter, so numb and cynical that he no longer believed in the value of life; everything and everyone was expendable, and the only things that mattered were knowledge and power. And he suffered for the way he was, but Lulu gave him respite from the pain, respite from what he was. He couldn't save himself, but _she_ could, and he didn't need to think twice about returning the favor.

As the velvet fluttered to the ground, Veigar mustered his strength and pushed the witch aside, taking her place in front of the mirror. And so it was him who saw it first, the countenance of Idun, and he did not understand. He never could. The faces of elder beings were not made to be beheld by mortals, and Veigar had to look away to not lose what was left of his mind. Idun, however, kept his thousand eyes on the warlock; he howled and cried for freedom, and its horrific appendages reached out of the looking glass to pierce Veigar and claim him as his new host.

But Veigar would not be taken so easily.

His power was no match for the dark prisoner, but he had something Idun did not: an anchor to the physical world. Perhaps the fiend would've scared lesser minds into submission, shown them images so horrific that they would willingly hand over their body, but Veigar had seen and felt things so terrible and known so many secrets of magic that no matter how many nightmarish visions Idun infested him with, he would not break. And the mirror began cracking, bit by bit, as Idun craved to have his freedom one way or another.

„What are you doing?!“ Lulu yelled, „you'll ruin everything!“

Veigar grinded his teeth. He didn't care about his bargain with Pix, just as he didn't care that he was setting free a powerful being that could wreak havoc in the spirit world; he only cared about Lulu and her safety. The Lulu that took him in when he was dying, that cared for him and expected nothing in return. The Lulu that came to him in his dreams and tried to make the bad things go away. The Lulu that made love to him; the Lulu he loved.

The looking glass shattered, and with an ear-piercing shriek Idun claimed his sovereignty; he didn't care for Pix' cries and insults, sucking in his dark presence from the entire tomb and crossing over to another plane of existence to once again run from the Prince of Lilies. Veigar was thrown back and onto the ground, showered by glass splinters. He coughed and panted, though his rest didn't last long; the possessed sorceress soon lifted him off the ground by his throat, shaking with rage.

 _< I thought you smarter than to try and infuriate a fey prince,> _her voice echoed through the chamber as she choked him with her little hand, _< I'll have Idun sooner or later, but you - you made me very unhappy.>_

„Release her,“ Veigar wheezed, „she's—of no use to you anymore.“

Her hold on him tightened. _< Neither are you.>_

Veigar grasped for air, but none was coming. „Lulu—you don't need what he offered you. I can—give it to you. Lulu—„

The fey prince laughed. _< Where were you when she was different, outcast, alone? Where were you when she hid from the waking world because she did not belong in it? Gone, and I was her only friend then.>_

„I'm here—now,“ Veigar gasped.

_< Why do you think you matter at all?>_

„Because—I love her.“

The world in front of him was beginning to fade as he suffocated. Lulu's eyes widened, and for a moment, the purple haze surrounding them dissipated; she dropped the unfortunate warlock and grabbed her own hair, tugging and pulling it. Veigar rasped and panted, finally given his breaths back; he looked up at the sorceress as soon as he could, and was witness to a blinding burst of violet magic. Lulu bent over and coughed and gagged until the fairy came out of her throat, forced back on its tiny wings.

She staggered. Veigar jumped to his feet to catch her as she collapsed; he was still weak from the fairy's choke, and so he dropped together with the sorceress, his lap cushioning her fall.

„Veigar,“ she muttered feverishly in his arms, „Veigar, I had a terrible nightmare.“

He pushed her wild hair out of her face. She was so beautiful.

„That Gaggle became a spark of light,“ she whispered, looking into his eyes, „Gawker and Growler turned into stone statues, Froglet left with an ancient queen and Shoe was sacrificed...“

He lifted her gently to press a soft kiss onto her forehead.

„That we found a mirror I was meant to look into, that we freed a terrible spirit and that you said—„

She paused, resting her forehead against his. „Veigar, is it true?“

„Yes,“ he said, „it is.“

She pressed herself against him, and he hid her in his embrace as the true treasure of the golden tomb. They lingered in the prison chamber, content in the presence of one another, and their departure marked the beginning of the fourth dreaming, realized in the waking world. With one being the dream of the other, there was no need to sleep the nightmares away any longer.

 


End file.
